Into the Free (24 page)

“I’d rather eat dirt.” I smile. “Why do you keep him around here anyway, Mr. Tucker?”

Mr. Tucker laughs, “You didn’t know, Millie? Bump’s not only one semester away from being a bona fide vet-er-in-arian, finishing up this year of on-site training. He’s well on his way to becoming the nation’s top horse trainer. Could work anywhere he wants, no doubt. We’re awful glad he chooses to stick with us.”

“Nope,” Bump teases. “She thinks I’m just a dumb old cowpoke.”

I give him a shove, for the heck of it, and hold up my new shirt for another look.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Mr. Tucker says. “Go try it on!”

I grab my box of gear and take off running for the restroom, still trying to absorb the fact that Bump has other options. That he is taking the job in Colorado. That he will soon leave. That he may be taking Firefly with him.

I take my time snapping the silver shirt tabs together. All my life, I’ve dreamed of riding horses, longed to enter Jack’s forbidden world. But now it’s happened. I’m here, an official member of the rodeo with my own tricks and my own outfit. I think of Mama, sending me to see Jack ride last spring, hoping I would discover this wasn’t my world. I wonder what she would think of me now. Seeing me choose Jack’s world. Seeing me ending up like Jack.

I flap my arms to make the silky fringe sway in the mirror. Sliding into the pants feels strange—they squeeze between my legs and tug around my waist. I take time to admire my figure in the mirror. I remember Bump’s words when he first taught me how to ride, teasing me to slide my plump rump into the saddle. I don’t want to show Bump the outfit. It will reveal much more than my school skirts do. But as I turn and stare in the mirror, I don’t care so much what other people think. The truth is, wearing pants feels good. I feel confident. Strong. Like the cowgirls in the photos: Peggy Long, Fay Kirkwood, Vaughn Kreig. As far as I can tell, those women never hesitated to put on a pair of jeans and join the men. It will be easier to ride Firefly in pants, anyway. And honestly, I kind of like the way I look in the outfit. Plump rump and all.

“Any day now!” Bump yells from outside the door.

I smile. “Go away!”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, Millie.”

“Okay. Here I come.” I bolt from the door and run full speed for Firefly.

Firefly seems not to notice the difference, but I’m able to twist my body in ways I never dreamed, even twirling under Firefly’s thick belly as her muscular legs thrust forward in a steady lope around the arena.

“Crying shame,” Bump shouts.

“What?” I ask, bringing Firefly to a halt with the gentle wiggle of my fingers in her mane.

“All that talent, and no desire to show it off in Texas.”

Bump doesn’t understand, of course. As much as I want to compete, nothing can compare to seeing River again. He was the first person to look at me with all my scrapes and scars and make me feel loved. He promised to take me away. And I promised to go with him.

As much as I care about Bump, as much as I want to compete with Firefly, how can I deny River? How can I choose a different path? And now, with Bump leaving for Colorado, what’s the point? There isn’t much Bump could possibly say to change my mind. I am staying in Iti Taloa to wait for River. And then … well, who knows what might happen next.

“Something’s missing,” Bump’s voice interrupts my daydream. “Just not quite right.”

He is standing with his arms crossed, wearing a long-sleeved plaid shirt. Only the top button is open, revealing his strong, tan neck. His oversized hat completely conceals his eyes. He seems more like a fictional character than a rodeo cowboy.

“You ready for the rest of your birthday present?” he asks.

“The rest?”

“Well. This part is from me. But you’ve got to come with me if you want it.” Bump smiles and saddles up.

Moments later, Firefly and I follow Bump on his favorite chestnut quarter horse. He leads us out of the arena, through Mr. Tucker’s pasture, and onto a wooded trail.

“This is amazing,” I say. I lean from side to side to miss low branches from tupelo gums and tulip trees. “I thought I’d been through every patch of woods around here, but I’ve never seen this.”

“Pretty, ain’t it? I knew you’d like it. Happy birthday, Millie.” Bump keeps things simple. We ride in silence for a few miles. The horses guide us slowly over ancient roots, weaving us around wizened trunks and along a snoozing creek dotted with cherry laurels and willow oaks. The woods sing to us. Squirrels bark their high-pitched chips. Jays squawk. Cicadas and spring peepers harmonize so loudly, I cannot possibly ignore the fact that spring has arrived. New leaves are sprouting from the limbs of pear trees and mimosas. White dogwood blooms tickle the path.

“Sure are quiet,” Bump says, jolting me back to reality.

“I was just thinking,” I say.

“Tell me something, Millie. What’s the real reason you don’t want to go with us to Texas?”

“I’ve got a promise to keep,” I explain, surprised that Bump has seen through my lie.

“What’s that?” he probes.

I debate on whether or not to tell Bump about River and the gypsies and the night I fell in love. It all sounds pretty ridiculous, I know. And somehow, it seems very far away, too. A distant dream. The truth is, I don’t know what to tell Bump. I am so confused.

One minute, I plan to wish Bump the best with his new life in the Rockies, trade the truck for Firefly, and start a life with River, as I’ve planned all year. But the next minute, Firefly neighs, and I’m not so sure it’s River I want at all. Suddenly, all I care about is wearing my new rodeo outfit in front of a crowd. I want to compete in Texas. I want to leave with Firefly and become a part of the rodeo, make my own way. With Bump.

I’m not being sensible about anything. I’ve got an option to leave Iti Taloa with the rodeo crew, and I’m hesitating. Why? I should be jumping at the opportunity. Especially with the situation at Diana’s house. I don’t know how much longer I can take all the pressure. The need to meet Diana’s expectations of being a proper lady, and the uncomfortable attempts to avoid her husband at all cost. The tension has been building since Diana’s friends told her about Bill Miller’s history with my mother, so why on earth wouldn’t I run off with the rodeo crew? It’s simple. I will tell Bump I’ve made up my mind.

But then again, I made a promise. To River. And it’s not his fault I didn’t show up that day, last year, as I had promised. He waited for me. He left a note for me. He said he will return for me. What kind of person would I be if I left him again? I have to stay. I have to see if he’s all I remember him to be.

“What’s the promise?” Bump grows impatient.

“I’m supposed to meet someone. Any day now,” I say.

“Someone?” Bump sounds as if he’s been hit in the gut.

“River’s his name,” I confess. “I met him last spring. With the gypsies.”

“Gypsies?” Bump laughs. “You’re waiting around for a gypsy?”

I nod, ashamed.

“No offense, Millie. But how many girls has this gypsy promised to come back to along the way?” He sounds shocked. Hurt. I remain quiet. Look at the trees.

“Ten? Twenty? Five hundred maybe?” he argues. “I can’t believe you fell for that. I took you as a girl with a good head on your shoulders.”

Bump has never spoken so harshly before. I don’t know what to say. My cheeks burn as I fight back tears, not because of what he has said to me, but because I realize, on some level, that everything he is saying might be true.

“Gypsies aren’t exactly known for keeping promises, Millie. If you’re waiting around here for some long-haired mule driver, think again. You’re missing the chance of a lifetime for some fool with shiny rings.”

I get defensive. “You don’t know anything about him,” I argue.

“I know enough,” he answers. He snaps a branch that is in his path. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him upset.

The horses keep their rhythm as we ride again in silence. When the woods open up into a flat green pasture they pick up the pace for a taste of fresh grass. I jump from Firefly’s back and remove the bit from her mouth. She is grateful to take a break. What if Bump is right? What if I’ve put all my hope into the slim chance that River really cares about me? We shared a few weeks together. What was that? Just a moment, nothing more. And yet, I’ve been banking everything on the dream that he’ll return and that I’ll run off with him and live happily ever after.

We sit in the grassy field and look out at the horizon. “I’m sorry,” Bump breaks the long silence but still isn’t looking me in the eyes.

The sun is beginning to set. We’ll be riding back to the arena in the dark, but neither of us seems to be in any rush to return. The sky turns colors. First a bluish haze that bit by bit includes cloud-spun streaks of purple. Then the whole bottom line transforms into a passionate shade of plum, topped with juicy pomegranate.

“It’s no secret how I feel about you, Millie,” Bump looks down at the ground and turns away from me. I can see the pulse in the back of his neck. I don’t know what to say.

“I’m crazy about you. I ain’t never felt like this over no one, Millie. Never. Gosh, Millie. I don’t wanna see you run off with some wild-haired gypsy boy just ’cause he saw you first. What’s it gonna take? To get you to come with me instead? To Colorado?”

“Colorado?” I am stunned. It has never crossed my mind that Bump would want me to go with him.

“I’m leaving when the foaling is done. Come with me.”

The sun spills across the flat green line of pasture. The smell in the air is a mix of spring grasses and fragrant pines. Baby birds chirp for their dinner, and black bats scoop overhead. Unlike the night in the field with River, this isn’t some magical trance with people wearing feathers and dancing around fire. This is real. This time, the fire is in my soul.

I think of Mama meeting Jack. Falling head over heels for a rebel cowboy. Although I’ve never for a second doubted Bump’s goodness, I suddenly worry that he might be just another volatile rodeo man. The way he snapped that stick. He could turn on me. Like Jack.

But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I
could
leave Iti Taloa. Join the rodeo. I’d make good money working with horses. Enough to support myself even if Bump doesn’t turn out to be Mr. Perfect. I think of the rodeo women in the photos. How happy I am when I’m working with Firefly. I think it can be done.

But all I’ve thought about for the last year is River. With his flint-black eyes and sultry voice, the thought of him still sends me soaring. He said he wanted to take me with him. And I promised him I’d go.

It does all seem unreasonable now. A handsome stranger who rides into town, steals my heart, and leaves me with nothing but a promise. What did I fall for?

I think of Bump’s family and how happy I felt being a small part of it, even for a day.

All of a sudden, River becomes Jack to me. How could I never have seen it? River is the danger. I’ve been crazy all along to believe in such a dream.

I pull Firefly closer to Bump. Try to get him to look at me. I’m caught up in a mix of my own shame and Bump’s kindness. His tenderness. I take his hand. This time, the energy is there. Pure. Steady. Not dangerous sparks, like when my skin met River’s. I don’t lose myself in Bump. But maybe that’s a good thing. I feel strong, not weak. Sure, not overcome.

Bump leans in to kiss me.

I hold back.

It’s not because I’m not interested. Bump’s invitation to go to Colorado, his warnings about River, this all feels right. I can’t deny it anymore. I’ve been putting my hope in the wrong place.

It’s Bump I trust. And in this moment, I understand that there’s more to this friendship than I have been willing to admit. These feelings for Bump have been here all along. I’ve just been too distracted to notice.

But just as I am allowing myself to give up on the dangerous dream of River and give in to the protected reality of Bump, I hear those sounds. Six-string guitars and haunting harmonicas, the flutter of brass bangles and wobbly wagons draped with bells. Just over the horizon, luminous flares from golden torches lick the sky. The gypsies.

All at once, my heart leaps. I can’t help it. I pull back from Bump. “You hear that?”

Bump doesn’t respond. The timing is unnerving. Of course he hears it. He looks at the ground, hunching his shoulders.